


Life. Or, Death.

by orange_soda (cider_donut)



Series: Life. Or, Death. [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Other, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 13:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cider_donut/pseuds/orange_soda
Summary: Life liked to watch as the world vibrantly glowed, while Death watched the world in funeral bells and black attire.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo & Lee Seokmin | DK, Jeon Wonwoo/Lee Seokmin | DK
Series: Life. Or, Death. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209833
Kudos: 7
Collections: Seventeen Rare Pair Fest: 2 Rare 2 Pair





	Life. Or, Death.

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SVTRarePairFest2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SVTRarePairFest2) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Life and Death are neighbors, but their after-work hours show their true sides: Death likes bright stuff, a total softy, and life is a goth punk who drives a big motor bike after dark. Death owns a big soft fluffy cat, and life has a grumpy skeletal animal of some sort. They are also best friends since childhood.

Posters with saturated navys and reds curling around the curves of shiny motorbikes hovered along peeling gray walls.

Shoes with yellowed-down checkers and painted on roses piled in the corner by the doorway.

A skeletal shell of a tabby cat lurks around the corners of the walls, often wrapping its uncovered bones into an ellipse as it lay in its tonal gray circular bed. 

Or, 

Paintings of sunlight and rainbows, glitter glue clustered at corners, still wet to pick at, hanging on walls by pieces of blue tape cut that were cut into the shape of a heart. 

Bright yellow sneakers with doodles of flowers and peace signs, piled into tones of the rainbow along the halls, messily discarded in tangles of laces and heels. 

A fluffy Maine Coone bounding endlessly around the curves of sunlight before leaping into its faux fur-lined oblong bed.

  
  


Life.

Or,

Death.

  
  


After dark, Life drives a motorcycle around town, blasting 70’s rock on a crisp, cherry candy red speaker, the paint on the material glowing in the night.

Or, 

In the mornings, Death takes his bike around town, humming to lighthearted tunes while ringing the lemon yellow bell, creating his own kind of music. 

  
  


Life.

Or,

Death.

  
  


Life likes to call himself Wonwoo. He likes watching the glowing orbs of red, blue, and yellow fly from his hands, and he smiles when the orb enters the world, he can hear the cries of each newborn child. You might think it would be annoying to be surrounded by the sounds of wailing, but he believed that to hear the sound of each newborn child motivated him to continue his power

Or, 

Death prefers to be known as Seokmin. He likes seeing those who have already left the land of the living, and help them find peace in their souls. He likes meeting with human beings (namely Soonyoung), and sometimes mourning over the plights of immortality with Mingyu and Minghao. He hardly has time to listen to the overwhelmingly loud funeral music, or the wailing of people dressed in black. Yet he does. He always made time to listen. 

  
  


Given their descriptions, it’s unbelievable to most commoners that these two men meet each other at cat cafes on Saturdays. Their mere juxtaposition turns heads while they sit across each other at tables, both cuddling with the cats.

Their conversations are even more jarring. 

They start with Wonwoo looking at Seokmin, eyes narrowed. 

“The child was stillborn.”

“Yup,” Seokmin pops the “p” while looking at the menu, avoiding eye contact.

“Seokmin.”

“Mhm. The circle of life calls, Won, you create life, I take it away.  _ Balance _ .”

“Right.” Wonwoo shifts in his seat, finally picking up the menu.

“Right.” Seokmin hums back.

It’s the slightly awkward air that thickens that provides something unconventional. It’s not every day Seokmin so quickly intercepts one of Wonwoo’s creations. 

But that’s just a matter of life. 

Or, death. 


End file.
